I am told that we are a house divided. I am a graduate of the University of Colorado at Boulder. Hubby graduated from Colorado State University. Steve tells me all the time that our schools are rivals. I do not agree. As a CU alum, I never once thought of Colorado State as our rival school. Twenty years ago (gasp) when I was a student at CU, our chief rivals were Oklahoma and Nebraska. Colorado State registered somewhere as a blip on our radar for the one day a year when our football teams played each other. Other than that, we didn’t give CSU a second thought. After all, CSU was simply the school where all the kids who didn’t get accepted to CU went.
When Steve set up this rivalry (the one I didn’t think existed) between our two schools, he threw down the gauntlet. We’ve had a friendly battle about our schools ever since. When our sons were born, it became an all out war between Steve and I to convince our boys that our alma mater is the best. I remember taking Joe to the Denver Zoo when he was a toddler, parking his stroller directly in front of the bison exhibit, and taking photos of him there to share with Steve later. Mean, but effective. Every year on the day of the Rocky Mountain Showdown, I somehow manage to get my boys into CU t-shirts. (That’s what happens when your wife shops and you don’t, sweetie.) A couple weeks ago the boys and I were up Waterton Canyon and we saw some rams, the CSU mascot. We took photos of them. Joe then suggested we drive up to the lookout at Genesee to get some photos of buffaloes to make it equal. That’s my boy.
Tonight as we were tucking the boys into bed, the school discussion reared its ugly head again.
“I think I’ll be going to CU,” Luke announced.
Game. Set. Match.
“If your grades are good enough,” I reminded.
“They will be. I’m going to CU. Sorry, Dad.”
“I’m sorry too, Luke,” Steve retorted.
“Are you mad at me, Dad?” Luke asked.
“Awwwww, honey,” I said, with sickeningly sweet condescension, “Don’t you want Luke to go to the best school?”
At this comment, he gave me the evil eye. “I’m not mad at you, Luke,” Steve replied. “I’m mad at your mom.”
And, this is how it is in our house. Steve really has no one to blame but himself. If there’s one thing about me that I’m sure he knows it’s that I’m not competitive until someone else starts with me. I never go looking for a fight. I’m a Boulder hippie. I’m all about the love. But, if you start with me, I’m going to bring my A-game.
(Author’s note: I have a lot of friends who are CSU grads. A LOT. I don’t hold that against them. I love them anyway. And, they tolerate me so it’s all good. I tease them about their school, but every single one of them is an amazing gift to me so their school can’t be all that bad. If my sons go to CSU, I’ll be proud of them. But, make no mistake about it. I will dance shameless circles around them when the Buffs beat the Rams.)